


so I can breathe you in

by bunniewabbit



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-16
Updated: 2009-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunniewabbit/pseuds/bunniewabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following someone else's lead is harder than it sounds</p>
            </blockquote>





	so I can breathe you in

 

The house is dark and quiet, colder than Ryan is comfortable with (all of Los Angeles is colder than Ryan is comfortable with right now, but he figures you can't have everything), and he huddles down into the blankets. Between the unfamiliar surroundings and the obstinately uncomfortable air mattress, sleep has been coming uneasily and intermittently. He listens to the night sounds, the sounds of Brendon's house, the quiet hum of distant traffic, Spencer's light snoring coming from nearby where he is sleeping on his own air mattress. Spencer doesn't seem to have had any problem adjusting or dealing with less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements, but then, Spencer has always been an easy sleeper.

Ryan closes his eyes, tries to let the sounds lull him to sleep. New sounds intrude, though: the soft, muffled bumps and shuffling of someone trying to move quietly through the house. Almost out of habit, Ryan hoists himself up, gathering the blanket around his shoulders, and pads softly out of the guest room.

Making his way carefully down the shadowed hallway, Ryan thinks of the first time sounds like that compelled him to rise, years ago now, on their first really long tour. Ryan had been staring into the dark, trying not to feel claustrophobic in the small space, when he'd heard Brendon quietly leave his own bunk. Time passed while Ryan struggled to sleep, and then it occurred to him that he'd never heard Brendon go back to bed.

So, Ryan got up too, thinking that at least some company would help the hours pass more easily. He found Brendon in the lounge, sitting huddled in on himself, and the first thing that passed through Ryan's mind was how _small_ he looked. 'Small' was not a word that Ryan would ordinarily associate with Brendon, who, in spite of his modest stature, filled entire rooms with his energy, personality and charisma, seldom appearing to shrink down to his actual, physical size. Ryan had only witnessed it a few times: Brendon's falling out with his parents, his near-despair over trying to live on his own by holding down two jobs while going to school and spending every free moment working with the band, the time during the recording of their first album when Ryan's pushing and demanding perfectionism had driven Brendon to the point where he actually considered quitting the band. What had brought him to this point this time, Ryan couldn't even guess.

"Hey," Ryan said softly, and Brendon's head shot up, startled, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. Ryan sat down next to him, close enough to feel the slight chill on Brendon's skin. "You okay?"

Brendon gave him a half smile and the slight shrug of one shoulder, which Ryan took to mean _Yeah, but not really_. Ryan wrapped an arm around Brendon's shoulders and tugged, and Brendon came easily, unfolding slightly and tucking his face down into Ryan's shoulder, curling his arm around Ryan's waist. Ryan didn't push, didn't press for an explanation, just held him and hoped that the slight trembling he felt in Brendon's limbs was just due to the cold and not something worse.

Eventually, Brendon pulled back, looking slightly sheepish, and without thinking about it, Ryan smiled and dropped a kiss at the corner of Brendon's mouth. It wasn't until Brendon went utterly still in his arms that Ryan realized that he'd crossed some sort of line.

Of course, they'd kissed each other plenty of times; they all had: small pecks of affection, or loud, obnoxious smacks on the cheek or forehead. It was no big deal. This time it came so naturally that Ryan hadn't thought that it was any different, hadn't though about it at all until it was too late to take it back or brush it off as nothing.

Brendon was looking at him, his eyes dark and serious, searching, dropping to Ryan's mouth and back up to his eyes. "Can I...?" Brendon whispered, and Ryan's breath caught.

He heard his brain telling him, screaming at him all the reasons why it was a really, _really_ bad idea, and then heard himself answer, "Yes."

Brendon leaned in and Ryan met him halfway, their mouths lining up, not so much awkward as tentative, just a soft brush of lips, pressing together lightly. Ryan felt Brendon's mouth on his lower lip, felt it pulled between Brendon's lips as he sucked so, so gently, and Ryan gasped in a sharp breath. Before he even knew what was happening or who was to blame, their tongues were curling together, sliding warm and wet between wide-open mouths. Brendon had his fingers buried in Ryan's hair at the nape of his neck, and Ryan's palm curved around Brendon's jaw as their mouths worked together in deep, slow kisses.

When they finally pulled apart, they stared at each other for a long moment and Ryan held his breath, almost afraid to move. Then Brendon's lips curved in a small, shy smile, his fingers combing through Ryan's hair, and Ryan exhaled, leaned forward and lightly kissing the bow of Brendon's lips once more, and then offered a smile of his own.

"We should get some sleep," Brendon murmured, standing and offering Ryan his hand. Ryan looked at it and then took it, following when Brendon tugged gently, allowing himself to be pulled back to the bunks. When they got there, Brendon squeezed his hand once and whispered, "Good night," before vanishing behind the curtains of his bunk. Ryan climbed slowly into his own bed and lay down with a deep sigh.

Much later, Ryan was still staring into the dark, wondering how long it had taken Brendon to fall asleep.

The next morning, Ryan got up warily, not sure what to expect or how he should act. But Brendon was back to his old self, grinning and bumping his hip congenially against Ryan's as Ryan tried to get himself some coffee, chastising him for being grumpy when Ryan was forced to bodily remove Brendon from the kitchenette so that Ryan could pour a cup of coffee without spilling it all over the counter. So, a non-issue, really. Ryan allowed himself a sigh of something that he was pretty sure was relief, and carried on with life as usual.

It may have been the first time, but it was not the last. Periodically over the many months between then and now, Ryan would wander out from the bunks or his bedroom and find Brendon sitting alone. Sometimes they would just sit together, talking or not, sometimes they'd snuggle up for awhile, or lie down on the sofa together. And sometimes they would kiss, but never unless Brendon asked; whenever he asked, Ryan would answer, "Yes." Always afterward, Brendon seemed calmer, more settled, able to re-center himself and get past whatever it was that had thrown him off course.

Ryan told Spencer after the fourth or fifth time it happened, not so much because he thought it was all that important, but because he hated the idea of keeping anything from Spencer. Spencer had been surprised and asked, _And he never presses for anything more?_ When Ryan had told him, _No, it's only ever kissing, and sometimes not even that,_ Spencer had looked thoughtful, but had left the discussion at that. _Just... be careful, Ryan,_ he'd said. Ryan almost asked him what he meant, but decided that he didn't really want to know.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Ryan sees a light glowing softly in the living room. He shuffles in, the blanket whispering against the carpet, and Brendon looks up from where he's sitting on the sofa, his legs curled neatly off to the side. He smiles and pulls his earphones from his ears, unfolding his legs to make room for Ryan to sit. "Can't sleep?" he asks as Ryan settles in beside him and pulls the blanket over them both.

"Fucking mattress," Ryan responds. "Spencer's snoring. And it's cold," he finishes petulantly, pushing himself closer and trying to absorb Brendon's warmth. He pokes Brendon's ribs when Brendon has the nerve to chuckle, but Brendon just lifts his arm and drapes it across Ryan's shoulders, letting Ryan burrow into his side.

They sit companionably for awhile and Ryan wraps his arm around Brendon, feels him breathing, feels him curl his warm hand over Ryan's forearm, feels him rest his head on top of Ryan's. Brendon's not going to ask tonight, Ryan realizes, and something twists hard inside his chest. He tries to relax, to stay where he is and enjoy the moment, and Brendon is petting absently at the skin of his arm, maybe reacting to Ryan's sudden tension.

Unable to keep still, Ryan lifts his head and looks at Brendon, sucking his lip between his teeth. "What?" Brendon asks, looking vaguely amused. Ryan releases his lip, breathes out, says, "Can I...?" Brendon's eyes widen slightly and then he nods and closes the distance between them.

Melting into the kiss, Ryan pushes his fingers into Brendon's hair, tightening his arm around Brendon's waist, pulling him close. Brendon makes a small sound in his throat and Ryan feels Brendon's hands come to rest on either side of his head, cradling it, thumbs stroking along the curve of his cheekbones. Ryan kisses him deeply and Brendon lets him, following his lead as always, Ryan suddenly knows. There is a tendril of want uncoiling and winding its way through Ryan's insides, accompanied by a hard knot of something that sits at his core, cold and relentless. Ryan tries to push them both away, concentrates on the wet slip of his tongue in Brendon's mouth, feels Brendon's body straining toward him.

Even though it's him that tugs at Brendon, Ryan is still surprised when Brendon pulls back a little and then pushes up, swinging a leg over Ryan's thighs until he his sitting on his lap, straddling him. He blinks up at Brendon and Brendon spends a long moment studying Ryan's face, looking like he's considering something. Finally, Brendon leans down and kisses Ryan, but softly this time, his tongue barely dipping into Ryan's mouth, just the tip of it stroking at Ryan's. It feels more like a first kiss, sweet and shallow, and with his breath stuttering in his chest, Ryan fists his hands in Brendon's thin t-shirt, holding him close.

Brendon pulls away from Ryan's mouth, kissing up the side of Ryan's face, and Ryan stills as Brendon kisses his eyelids, kisses his hair, and then leans back. Ryan opens his eyes and Brendon is right there, smiling at him. But his expression is somehow enigmatic despite the smile, sad and hopeful all at once, and Ryan feels the knot in his chest tighten. "It's late," he hears Brendon say, watches Brendon push himself up and off Ryan's lap, but Ryan doesn't move. Just like that first time, Brendon holds out his hand and Ryan looks at it, but instead of taking it he looks back up at Brendon and Brendon's smile widens slightly, reaching his eyes, warm and genuine.

Taking a deep breath, Ryan grasps Brendon's hand, clutching at the blanket as Brendon hauls him to his feet. He follows Brendon into the shadows at the foot of the stairs where Brendon stops and takes the blanket from Ryan's hands, arranging it carefully across Ryan's shoulders again while Ryan watches what little he can see of Brendon's face in the dim light.

He starts to turn toward the stairs when Brendon catches at his arm, whispers, "Hey," and then lifts up on his toes and presses his lips to Ryan's, lingering for just a moment before pulling away. In the dark, Brendon's smile looks so much like that first, shy smile that Ryan feels the knot loosen, just a little bit. He exhales but can't manage a smile of his own and doesn't trust himself to speak, so he finds Brendon's hand with his own and squeezes, waiting for Brendon's answering squeeze before letting go and facing the stairs. He takes them slowly, aware of Brendon's eyes on him, of the soft susurration of the blanket on the steps. Then the deep shadows of the hallway close in around him as he retraces his steps, heading for the guest room.

Once there, he steps inside and pauses, thinking about the differences between the dark and the light, wondering which one makes breathing easier.

"Is he okay?" Spencer's voice is low, hushed in the shadows on the far side of the room.

"He's fine, he's. He's fine." Ryan just stands there, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders.

"What about you?"

Ryan says nothing. It's pointless to try to lie to Spencer, and anything else Ryan doesn't want to hear himself say. So he stays silent and stands there.

There's a shuffling sound, and Spencer's voice says, "Come on." Ryan chokes in a breath that he hopes Spencer doesn't hear and crosses the room, sinking down onto the mattress and under the lifted edge of Spencer's blanket, curling against Spencer's side and burying his face in Spencer's shoulder.

"You're going to be okay, too," Spencer says after a moment, and he sounds convinced, like he believes it.

Ryan listens to Spencer breathe, listens to Brendon's house and the faint sounds of Brendon moving down the hall to his own bedroom, and tries to believe it, too.  


 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  



End file.
